Tunes with Tony Masen Outtakes
by Just4ALE
Summary: It's ironic that I was the DJ and yet her voice called out to me, night after night, like a siren's song. She isn't just a listener; she's the listener. Tunes with Tony Masen outtakes from his POV. AH.
1. Outtake 1: Santana

**Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. The content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Just4ALE.**

_A/N1: This is the first outtake from Tunes with Tony Masen. Here's what Tony had to tell me about Ch 9 (Fleetwood Mac)._

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**Outtake 1**

**Santana: She's Not There**

_Fuck._

_She's here._

Beautiful brown eyes stare into mine and for the briefest of moments after my initial surprise, I'm ecstatic.

_She's here. In YOUR apartment. Alone with you._

From the moment I realized the stunning woman I'd seen at Jake's Big Bike shop in April was the very same one I'd befriended on the radio, I've been in hell.

_Befriended? Bullshit. Your affection for that woman on-air was so evident, it was ridiculous. And off-air? You made verbal love to her for months._

My first instinct is to touch her. I want to verify she's real. I'm dying to pull her close to me and hug the only new friend I've allowed myself to have in several years.

And then I remember I'm not allowed to feel this way. She can't be here. I can't let her in.

I reach out and yank her out of the corner. She stumbles into me and I grab onto her with both hands.

She's so close. With one move, I could envelop her in my arms.

But I don't. Instead, I shake her and I'm an asshole, denying our relationship.

And she calls me on it.

She wrenches free and confronts me. She knows who I am.

_Shit. _

I have a choice. I can keep pretending, or I can admit it.

I'm a good liar. I have to be, given my history. I wanted a new beginning. It's why I've kept my distance from my past. Eleazar and Carmen are the exceptions; they never treated me differently. They stood by me through it all. They let me store my things with them when I took my break from reality.

Very few know who I was. That man is gone. I don't want anyone infected by it, especially not her.

I back away and watch her rubbing her arms where I'd been gripping her. I hurt her.

_Fuck._

Then I notice the ring.

_Holy shit!_

A wave of something I can't identify shoots through me. Why does she affect me like this?

_**So no one told me about her…**_

_Does she have a fiancée or husband? In all your nighttime conversations, shouldn't you have gotten any inkling of this? She always seemed so alone…_

Clearly she's been keeping secrets too.

…_**the way she lied.**_

We're kindred spirits. I don't know her as well as I thought I did.

_Good. This makes it all easier. Decision made. _

I admit who I am.

She tells me she had nowhere to go.

_Really? What's with the ring then, sweetie?_

I watch as she slumps to the floor, curled up in a ball.

I stare at her and quickly process through the new information. The ring is on the wrong hand. Jacob was killed. She's devastated.

I've known about her link to Jacob Black for a while, but seeing that ring on her is painful. She spent months talking to me every night. I thought she'd been by herself, but had he been lying next to her listening to her speak with me? That didn't make any sense, though. Why would a man lie there while his woman talked with some other guy on the phone?

I don't want to think about that right now.

I bring her to the living room. I get her a beverage. I watch her.

_I_ drink _her_ in.

She's disheveled. Her clothes are ripped and dirty and too big for her small frame. Her hair is sloppily pulled back into a pony tail. Her eyes are puffy. Her skin is too pale against the black jacket.

And still she's beautiful. I'm overwhelmed.

_She's here. _

_With you._

_Alone._

My time is limited. I can't help myself: I ask stupid questions. I stare at her, fascinated by her clear intelligence and sharp tongue in the midst of whatever adversity she's faced tonight.

_**Let me tell you about the way she moves, the way she acted, the color of her hair… **_

I can't let this happen. As much as I want her here, she can't be here.

Before I can change my mind, I offer to let her stay the night and tell her she has to go in the morning.

She tenses up at the suggestion and then she really tries to break my heart.

She thought of me as a friend.

_Yes, I am. _

_I was. _

_God, how I want to be… I want to be your friend. _

Do I tell her this?

Of course not.

Instead, I try to warn her off. Someone who is clearly as good as she is deserves better. If she knew my past, she'd run from me too.

She hears what I'm saying. Her eyes grow dull and she closes them.

_You're such a shithead._

I want to retract this discussion, but before I can say anything, she's on her feet. Having accepted my lies, she changes the subject and asks for a shower.

I offer her a change of clothing and she's surprised.

_Make up your mind: are you trying to push her away or not?_

She follows me as I head to my room to grab something for her to wear. I return and I'm drawn in again. Our bodies touch when I hand her my clothes and it's like electricity. I pull away quickly. _You can't do this. _

_You can't._

She shuts the door and I stand there staring at it like an idiot. When I'm sure she's in the shower, I hurry to make sure the sofa will be ready for her to sleep on when she's out. Underneath the spare blankets, I find the box I'd planned on donating to Goodwill and I haul that out too. I drop the box on the floor by the sofa and put a sheet down for her. Then I sit and try to make sense of what happened tonight.

I remove the band holding my ponytail and run my fingers through my hair. _God, I hate my hair this long._

Of all the apartments, belonging to all the DJs, in all of the Bay Area, she breaks into mine.

_Who are you trying to fool? It was inevitable. You were careless. _

I'd let her in, convincing myself it was only a phone call with a stranger. We'd never meet. What was wrong with chatting about music with a listener?

Except she wasn't just "a listener."

She is different. Smart, funny, thoughtful, and obviously caring.

I never stood a chance. My feelings for her crept up on me.

At first I didn't notice her; she just called in on occasion and answered the question. After the second week, I realized she was a regular caller, and after a month, a regular winner. My curiosity got the best of me and I began speaking with her for a few minutes after I began the next set. A few minutes became several. I got addicted to the little things about her: her throaty laugh, the cadence of her speech, the various tones and inflection of her voice.

It's ironic that I was the DJ and yet _her_ voice called out to _me_, night after night, like a siren's song.

She isn't just a listener; she's the listener.

Still, after all these months, I know so little about her.

But now I have an opportunity to really get to know her.

_She's here. _

_In your shower. _

_And you really shouldn't be thinking about that._

I get up and start pacing around the room to distract myself. My gaze falls on her backpack. I pause for a moment.

Only a moment.

I open her backpack and find her wallet. In seconds, I'm looking at the driver's license of Isabella Marie Swan, born September 13, 1983, who lives at 1425 Vallejo Street and whose picture doesn't do her justice. Still, in this small photo she's smiling and it's something to see. It's gorgeous.

Sadly, the smile was absent the morning of the attack in the garage, and I haven't seen it at all tonight. In fact, the only time I did see it was that time at Jake's shop.

I run my thumb over her license one more time, admiring her pretty face. Then I notice the water is still running. And she's still in there.

I deposit her wallet in her bag, close it up and tie my hair back. I walk back to the bathroom and then stand outside the door. I lean in to listen and realize she's crying. A lot. Deep sobs are only slightly muffled by the running water.

I feel betrayed, angry that she's crying for that guy, the one she's been running around San Francisco with doing that God-damned contest. El said they looked chummy this morning. God I'm such a selfish bastard. The man is dead and she has a right to cry over someone she cared about.

_I wish she wasn't here._

I feel sad, knowing the one person who has managed to worm her way past my defenses is hurting. I want to make the pain go away.

_I wish I could help her._

I feel…

I feel. She makes me feel… everything. And I'm not sure how to handle it. I've been dead for so long.

She makes me feel alive.

I'm so busy with these warring emotions that I don't notice she's turned off the shower until I hear the curtain move. I back away from the door and lean against the wall. She opens the door, looking small and clean… and is she bleeding?

_What happened to her tonight?_

My training and instincts kick in. I can help her.

I get busy cleaning her cuts and wounds. She's so close, I can barely stay focused. There is an energy between us that is almost visible.

_Don't you feel this, Izzy? Don't you see?_

No. Her eyes are closed, which gives me the opportunity to stare at her even more since we're standing mere inches apart. My eyes move between her cuts and her face. She gnaws on her bottom lip. She has freckles across her nose.

Even her ears are pretty.

As I work my way down her arms, the diamond flashes in the bathroom light, mocking me.

Suddenly, I'm fighting down anger again. Mustering all the control I have, I ask.

_I need to know._

And suddenly, the knife comes out of my heart. He was going to propose to someone else.

She wasn't with Jacob Black.

I take her hand back and continue on her splinters.

I'm almost giddy… to the point where I nearly reveal too much.

_Shit. _

I try to cover by making a joke about the band. Did she notice my slip?

I feel her eyes on me. I feel the warmth of her body heat radiating.

She's alone and needy… and just so fuckin' pretty.

_No. _

_Don't even think about it._

I let go quickly and clean up. Then I get her settled in on the sofa.

_God, that shirt looks good on you. It's a nice color… you should wear more green._

And damn, I said that out loud.

Her gaze is intense.

_**Her voice was soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright…**_

It's too much.

I wish her a good night and leave her to go to my room. But I'm not tired.

_She's just down the hall, around the corner, sleeping in YOUR clothes. _

_Fuck._

I know I've hurt her by pushing her away, but it really is for the best. She's young and beautiful. She's smart and unspoiled. Me and my past… we'd only drag her down.

I pace like a caged animal.

She said she had no one. She is a solitary creature like I am.

Kindred spirits.

I want her friendship.

I want her kindness.

I want her.

_You can't have her. She's too good for you._

When the morning comes, she'll be gone.

_No._

Quietly, I open my door and return to the living room. I settle in my chair and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. I sit like a statue, watching her sleep.

I wish I could hold her.

I move closer and sit on the floor by the sofa, staring. I'm so near, I can feel her warm breath on my face.

I lose track of time… just watching.

She's moaning and whimpering.

For a second I wonder if the dream is erotic until I realize she's getting more agitated.

_Shhh, I've got you, Izzy. I'm here._

I reach out and lightly caress her hand, trying to soothe her, to calm her down.

I let go of her the instant she calls his name.

It's clear whatever happened tonight to Jacob and his girlfriend has scared her. I let her know I'm here, and finally, I do what I've wanted to do all night.

I touch her face.

I wipe her tears away. I'm losing myself when suddenly she tries to touch me.

_What are you doing? This is wrong._

I back away, but as I'm leaving she calls to me.

My blood runs cold.

Suddenly, I'm furious with myself once again. I can't allow this.

_It's wrong._

She sees my anger and shuts down. She turns her back to me and I practically run to my room and slam the door.

I throw myself down on my bed and lie awake, conflicted.

In the brief time she's been with me, she can tell I'm not what I seem to be.

The truth is, she knows me well. Whatever I gave away has been too much. And yet, subconsciously, I know I wanted her to know me.

In a different life, we might have been good for one another.

In that world, I take her for a ride on the bike, maybe somewhere up in wine country. We find a secluded spot, and sit on a blanket under a tree to have a picnic. We talk about everything and nothing. It feels good to laugh again.

Eventually, we stop talking. I undress her, and she me.

I've never felt more alive than now. My senses are heightened around her.

I smell the grass and flowers. I hear the birds and the sound of her breathing. I taste her, my mouth exploring hers, working its way down her naked body. I see her big brown eyes gazing into mine, matching my unmasked longing. I feel her, soft as I caress her bare skin, wet as I enter her; her hips rock against me, her movements in sync with mine.

I'm so close.

I close my eyes.

"Edward!" she cries as she climaxes.

I push up with my arms and arch my back as I continue to move in her.

"_Edward,"_ the wind whispers.

I open my eyes and look down at her.

She's not there.

I wake with a start. My heart is racing. Still feeling the dream, I wipe my face. I'm on edge. The idea of her disappearing on me is disturbing. I get up to look at her again.

Quietly, I open the door and go silently to the living room.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust and realize what I'm looking at.

My heart leaps into my mouth when I see the empty sofa and the folded blanket.

_**...it's too late to say you're sorry. **_

I turn on the light and see the note, and I cross the room like a ghost.

My body turns to stone.

_**Please, don't bother tryin' to find her... she's not there. **_

She's gone.

_Fuck._

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**A/N2: Man, that guy's thoughts about her were giving me whiplash... ;) I hope this gave you a _little_ insight into the mysterious Tony Masen. We'll find out more about his history over the next several chapters of Tunes.**

**Thank you, as always, to the lovely Irritable Grizzzly.**

**Please review.**

_Post A/N: Also not mine – lyrics from Santana's She's Not There._

_I had no Edony (as one clever reader called him) trivia in this outtake so I'll only share this:_

_The group 'Santana' is named after Carlos Santana. MANY, MANY band members have come and gone over the years, so Carlos – and his signature guitar sound (he rarely sings) – is really the constant. He came on the scene with his 'Latin rock' in San Francisco in '67, but became more famous after his appearance at Woodstock in '69. _

_I had the opportunity to see Santana play New Year's Eve 1995 in San Francisco, and I will never forget the Brazilian dancers and drums that led the way for him at midnight… which instantly fused with his own music. The place was rockin'. _


	2. Outtake 2: Peter Frampton

**Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. The content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Just4ALE.**

_A/N1: Edward's perspective on Chs 20 (Three Dog Night) and 21 (Electric Light Orchestra) of Tunes with Tony Masen. For some reason, Edward always talks to me in real time._

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**Outtake 2**

**Peter Frampton: Show Me the Way**

**#**

"We figured it out and we need to get ready. Always expect the Spanish Inquisition, you know?" she says lightly.

My mind reels as I register the meaning of those five words, and it's like someone lit a match and threw it in a bucket of kerosene; I go from zero to angry in seconds. "NO. FUCKING. WAY. You are not going to see… Jesus Christ!"

"Okay, okay, don't get agitated," she says calmly. "Look, talk to the little one to help sort this out. I'll meet you there ASAP."

More goddamned codes. "No, Bella, so help me God-"

"I'll see you later," she says and hangs up.

"FUCK!" I shout at the damn phone as I instantly redial her number. I'm pacing like a caged animal as I listen to the ringing. No answer. I hang up and dial again. "Answer the fucking phone, Bella!" I hiss. Still nothing. Repeat.

I'm momentarily brought out of the red fog all around me when someone shouts, "Hey!" I turn to see everyone staring at me, but particularly Jacob, whose eyes are blazing. "Don't you dare speak to her that way!"

"Butt out, Jacob," I mutter as I dial again.

"Butt out?" he sputters. "In case you didn't notice the bullet hole in me, I'm way the fuck in!"

"Yeah? Well, so am I you-"

"Hold it!" Garrett shouts. "Everyone stop!" Everyone shut up. "Edward, what the hell happened?"

"I don't know. It sounds like Bella's with my father." I dial again and it rolls into voicemail. Knowing she's ignoring my calls, I finally do as she suggested and call Alice.

"Hey," Alice answers, while obviously typing furiously on her keyboard.

"Why did Bella just give me the Spanish Inquisition line?"

The typing stops. "Crap," she mutters.

"Answer me right fucking now, Alice!"

"Calm the fuck down, Edward," she responds, catching me off-guard. Alice isn't a swearer. I hold my breath and wait. "We found out some key pieces of information today and I encouraged her to go see him," she says.

"So she is there with him now."

"Yes, she went to see him after his monthly meeting at the club. She's in disguise."

"I don't fucking believe you two. The one thing I didn't want and you both knew-"

"Stop it, Edward! This is bigger than just you. You can be pissed off all you want, but aim it at me, not her. She didn't want to go either, but once she figured out some key connections between some of these guys, we decided it was necessary."

"Where is he? What club are you talking about?"

"You know what? I'm not going to tell you. Bella can handle this. If you show up, you'll only make the situation tense."

_Is she kidding?_ "Alice," I say through clenched teeth, "if things are handled, why aren't we 'all systems go' to move them to Mom's house?"

"What?"

"Bella indicated, in code, that I needed to find another spot to hide them. That doesn't seem like everything is fine. Now where is she?"

"You… stay… put," she says slowly. "Do what you're there to do and make sure Jacob's okay to be moved. I'll call you as soon as I hear from her. Bye."

"Wait!" I say, but it's too late. She's gone. "What the fuck!" I scroll for Bella's number and try her again, but there's still no answer. "Shit!" I say as I continue pacing.

"Doc," Emmett says calmly, "it sounds like Bella and Alice have it covered. Don't let your feelings for him get in the way." He gestures to Jacob. "So not to your mom's house? Where then?"

"I have friends in Mill Valley," Garrett says. "Let me give them a call." I nod and just stare at my phone, willing it to ring. The room is uncomfortably silent as he exits.

"Hey, what are you going to do when you see her? You're not going to hurt her, are you?" Nessie admonishes.

_What? Hurt her? _I turn to look at them.

"Bella's family to us," Jacob says testily. "You hurt her once already; we won't stand by and let you do it again."

I run my fingers through my hair and go to sit on a chair opposite them. "I would never hurt her. She's everything to me, Jacob." They both stare at me, clearly trying to assess my honesty. "She's your family… but she's my whole world, and I'd be lost if anything happened to her." They appear to believe me and I look down at my phone again.

~#~

Thirty minutes later, I'm in my mother's garage, relieved to see the car there as Alice indicated. Her frantic call shortly after I left the others had me shaken. Demetri had found Bella and then her phone went dead. Seven minutes later, Alice said mom's car was on the move and heading back toward the house.

I storm in, and within seconds I'm on her, trying to make her talk to me. Trying to calm down. A little pissed-off that my world put herself in danger. But also relieved that my world is safe.

And I'm now in shock that my world seems to be packed up and is telling me goodbye. A crushing weight settles upon me and I feel like I'm drowning.

_No, Bella, you can't do this. No matter what you do, it doesn't change how I feel about you._

Suddenly, she blurts out the one thing that can stop me from going under… and everything changes.

_**I wonder how you're feeling… **_

The shock is probably what causes the amount of embarrassing verbal vomit that ensues.

_**There's ringing in my ears…**_

_The Partridge Family? Really, Edward?_

I'm a fucking moron. She tells me she loves me and that's my first reaction. This could be ranked right up there with "I carried a watermelon" in the annals of stupid responses. Thank God she calls me on it.

She's smart and sassy. She's tough, yet fragile and vulnerable. She's so fucking beautiful. I want to say something more, but all I can do is question her choice of words.

"You think? Or you know?"

_Because I know, Bella... I've known for a while._

And so has she, apparently.

I sit dumbfounded as she at last bares her heart and mind to me, connecting with me in a way that only she can… using ELO lines. I want to say it back. I want to reiterate all that I told her yesterday.

But no.

Instead I'm like Han with his smart-ass response to Leia when she tells him she loves him.

"Really, ELO?"

I'm just going to blame it all on the fucking emotional rollercoaster I've been on for the past several days, and the past few hours in particular. Everything is different when it comes to her. My friends saw it instantly. Hell, even Irina saw it.

"_Oh, Eddie,"_ Irina said quietly as she cut my hair, _"you've got it bad for that girl." _She sighed._ "The good news for you is that the feeling appears to be mutual."_

"_What?" _I asked, shocked and elated.

"Just once…" Bella says as she stands here with me.

_Wait, what?_

"Once? Bella, what…"

And my ability to articulate has gone out the window.

Over the past hour, I've gone from anger, to amazement, to shock to… _holy shit, she's stripping!_

She asks if I want her. My mind is reeling from her sudden boldness, and this time my responses make sense as I answer in the affirmative to all of her lines.

"Woman." "I need it." "I'm sayin…"

Suddenly all of the experience I have is gone from my head, and I'm like a teenager seeing a girl in her underwear for the first time. Her pretty pale pink underwear. I can't touch her. I'm too damned nervous. She's almost naked in front of me and at first I'm lost. I need a moment to think, but it's hard to do with her breasts in that relatively sheer bra so close to my mouth.

She tells me in no uncertain terms that wall fucking is in order.

_Well shit, she's trying to kill me._

My nerves are on edge and I cop to my small bout of performance anxiety and to what just looking at her body is doing to me. Finally, I put my hands on her and I'm instantly calm. Every moment we've had together has led up to this. It feels right. She's correct; it's been months of foreplay and I _know_ her. I can do this. I just need to make sure she comes.

A few times.

Skin: creamy and smooth, with just a hint of pink from her flush. Bra: off. Breasts: fucking perfect. My mouth is on her neck, my hand is in her panties to see how aroused she is, and she makes a typical Bella joke about passing out…

… which is how she ends up beneath me, writhing as my mouth works its way down her body, saying the dirty things I know she wants to hear. I dip into her, and bury my face between her legs, instinctively knowing what she needs. I reach for her hand - telling her silently that I know what's between us isn't merely physical, that I feel our emotional connection too – and I hold it as she comes gloriously on my tongue.

I work my way back up her body, kissing every exposed inch, reaching for her hand and moving it so that it's positioned near her head. Our fingers are intertwined as I lean on that arm, holding my weight up, watching the surprise on her face after I kiss her and she tastes herself. Watching her gasp as I snake my other hand down her body and my fingers decide they're going for round two.

_Fuck, she's tight. Oh, yeah, I want in there._

"Tell me when I hit it," I say, as I pump my fingers slowly in and out of her, reaching, searching.

"Hit what?" she pants, and suddenly she cries out against my mouth.

"That," I whisper, kissing her once again.

_That's two, and I'm not even naked yet,_ I think cockily. A situation she clearly intends to rectify, and fast.

Now she's on the move, fumbling with my zipper, pulling my pants and my boxers off of me, coming back up to kiss my chest, and work her way down.

I'm worried I'm going to lose it before she even touches it, and I want to say something, but I'm unable to speak. Groans and curses are all I utter. Her lips are soft, her hands delicate. I feel it all.

Considering the amount of intelligent conversation and witty banter we've had over the past eight months, our time together is surprisingly unintelligible.

Besides, her mouth is full.

_Fuuuck, her mouth!_

Which is what I'm doing. I have my hands on her head and I'm moving her until I realize I probably shouldn't be. _Shit!_ I take my hands off of her head and she reaches up and puts them back on.

"I want you to show me," she says, her hands wrapped around my dick, her eyes wide and trusting. "Show me the way to do this for you…what you like."

_Jeeesus…_ The sight of her there is too much. I close my eyes and groan. "If I show you darlin', I'll be done in a second."

"Won't this make you last longer in the next round?" she asks and I feel her lips on me again.

_Next round. Hell yessss. I like the way you think, baby._

She chuckles and I realize I've said that aloud. I have no filter now. But I don't want to hold back with her anymore.

And I'm not going to be able to. I feel it, full steam ahead.

"Bella, I'm coming," I hiss, reaching to pull her off of me.

"Mmhmm," she mumbles, grabbing my hand from her hair and squeezing it.

I open my eyes and she's looking at me. With my dick in her mouth. It's my undoing and I come, watching her watch me.

Her hair is a mess from my hands. Her face has a huge bruise on it. Her lips are swollen from kissing me. She's so unbelievably beautiful.

_She loves me._

After a moment, I regain my ability to think, and my mind and body decide to go back to the beginning. I kiss her clit and start all over again. By the time she's done, I'm hard and she pulls me up and on top of her. I slowly push in.

And the world stops turning.

_Hoooly fuck._

~#~

The next few hours fly by and move in slow-motion at the same time. I register it all, savoring every moment, delighting in the feel of her and the way we are together. My brain takes mental images, snapshots of every part of her, of us:

She's freakin' bendy. _("You ain't seen nothin' yet," she says with a smirk. Duly noted, my love.)_

She makes a lot of noise. Her moans get me hard and keep me hard.

She tastes sooo good.

She still wants the wall. (_"We'll save that for another time, darlin'.")_

She really, really loves my dirty talk.

She smells like me.

The caveman in me loves that. Loves that I'm marking her, possessing her. Is thrilled to be claiming her as mine at last, taking her over and over. Because she belongs with me.

The idea that she'd considered leaving me is infuriating, and suddenly I'm back to feeling like I did when I first returned home. Seeing red, I bend over her, grabbing her roughly as I move hard and fast. I'm lost, oblivious to all but the feel of me sliding in and out of her. I want to fuck her so that she never wants to leave me or my dick.

_Take that. Do you feel me now?_

It isn't until she moans that I awake from my haze. Angry sex isn't good when only one person is angry. Despite her lack of protest, I know this isn't the way to be with her right now. I sit up and move her with me, bringing her back flush against my chest as I enter her again. We move slowly and I love her the way she deserves to be loved. She looks over her shoulder and I'm lost in her eyes. I reach for her to get her there, one hand pressing her clit, the other holding her hand and she cries out. The caveman in me rejoices that I've done it again, and then it's my turn.

And finally, we're here, curled up on the bed in almost the same position. The only sound is our breathing at first, but now it's quiet but for the whisper of my hand gliding over her skin. It's bliss to hold her in this way.

_**I wonder if I'm dreaming, I feel so unashamed... **_

I nuzzle my nose into her hair and inhale; she smells like me, like sex, like her sweet Bella scent. I'm overwhelmed by the depth of my feelings. This is love and it's so different from my feelings for Tanya. It's hard to believe that I was able to stay away for so long. She came into my life and added light, and laughter, and goodness. Who could imagine I'd ever feel this way?

_**I can't believe this is happening to me.**_

She's silent. _Did she pass out?_ _Could be… we've been at this for a few hours._

I think about all the times I've been lying next to her over the past few days, wanting her and yet never crossing that line. Staring at her, memorizing her, as I do now.

_**I watch you when you're sleeping, and then I want to take your love… **_

And I can tell it's only a matter of time before I'll be ready again. What the fuck? I'm a thirty-six-year-old man, not a seventeen-year-old boy! I should be able to control my urges, to hold back. But with her, I don't want to. I want to move ahead.

_**Oh won't you, show me the way…**_

_I wonder if she'd be up for more. _

As if she's read my mind, she squeezes my hand.

_What can I do for you? How do I show you that you belong with me?_

_**I want you, to show me the way, my Izzy-Bella.**_

I kiss my way up her shoulder and neck and turn her to look at me. _God, she's so fucking beautiful._

_**I want you, day after day.**_

"Hi," she says with a shy smile.

_I'm never letting her go._

_

* * *

_

**A/N2: He's a different guy from the Tony we first met, huh? **

**The next chapter of Tunes with Tony Masen is well on its way; the featured band is Wings.**

**Thank you, as always, to the lovely Irritable Grizzzly.**

**Please review.**

_Post A/N: Also not mine – lyrics from Peter Frampton's Show Me the Way and line from Dirty Dancing._

_While I originally envisioned that this chapter would be Derek and the Dominos' Layla, Edward started talking in Frampton lyrics to me. So some brief Frampton trivia:_

_- British artist who started out in a band called Humble Pie, which interestingly is the band he plays manager to in his cameo in Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous._

_- His big breakthrough was his live album, most aptly called "Frampton Comes Alive." I thought this was funny because the truth is I ONLY know him from that album and could barely remember a non-live song. "Show Me the Way," a song off of this album, hit #6 in the U.S. His top hit was "I'm in You," which hit #2 in 1977._


	3. Outtake 3: Carly Simon

**Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. The content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Just4ALE.**

_A/N1: You can blame (or thank, depending on your perspective) Nolebucgrl for this outtake. In an effort to pimp out her 80s song fic contest, she tweeted lines from For Your Eyes Only. I had to bleach my brain with Bond theme songs I __liked__… and then this small bit started forming._

_BTW, Edward is well aware that this is not a 70s "rock" song. However, it is a 70s song and he's recovering from major trauma in this outtake from the last ch of Tunes with Tony Masen... So give him a break. _

* * *

**Outtake 3**

**Carly Simon: Nobody Does it Better**

**#**

_I jump out from behind the car and take Chuck by surprise, dragging him into the house. He admits nothing, so she knees him, knocks him out, and instructs me to hide his body. _

_I lug him into the laundry room and tie him up, and my blood runs cold when I hear them enter. Silently, I hold still and then peek around the door to see Demetri heading up the stairs and Felix looking around, his gun raised._

_Taking a page out of her playbook, I wait for the right moment and jump out at Felix, knocking him in the face with the Beretta, and he fires two stray shots into the ceiling before I manage to kick his gun out of his hand. He dives at me and we have at it, punching each other and wrestling in the hallway. Then he pulls a knife out of nowhere and I narrowly avoid being stabbed. Thankfully I wind up with the knife before it lands in his stomach and heart. _

_Somewhere along the way I hear shots, and my heart nearly stops; I have no idea if she's been hurt. I stand, realizing I may have broken a rib in the fight when suddenly the Devil himself appears, grabbing me and holding me hostage. I'm simultaneously relieved and worried when she calls out my name and I realize she's okay. I try to warn her, but he hits me in the face with his gun._

_We listen to his threats. He gloats. He thinks he's going to get away with this._

_Not if I can help it, motherfucker._

_I manage to say a few words, desperately hoping her brilliant mind understands my meaning, and then I make my move._

_He cries in agony and I can't help but feel a little smug. _

_Take that, asshole. Thanks to you, my time in prison taught me a useful skill. _

_I step away as soon as he lets me go, but the knife I shoved in his thigh is barely a deterrent. A loud bang precedes the fire that rips through my side, and I hear her scream my name as I fall to the ground._

_The pain is excruciating and at that moment, I'm terrified – not only for my safety but for hers. She told me she could shoot, but she's up against a trained police officer. Still facing the floor, I only hear what happens next:_

"_Live and let die," she hisses. "Okay, Mr. Aro."_

_More shots -_

I wake with a start, quickly touching my "injury" where the bullet had just entered. I scan the room, momentarily panicked that I'll see Caius there, firing his gun into my girl. Finding neither him nor her, I take a deep breath and mentally shake myself into reality.

Sitting up slowly, I grab the water from the nightstand and take a few gulps, my heart still racing. It's the first dream I've had in a while, or at least the first dream I can remember since the night she broke into my apartment. Between the dearth of truly restful hours during our little "road trip" and then being knocked out with the pain pills, my mind has been clear when I sleep.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same about the day; I'm constantly preoccupied with the shitty situation and general state of limbo in which we find ourselves. The recovery is taking too damn long from my perspective, even though logically I know I'm doing well enough, all things considered. But every time I hear either Carlisle or Esme on the computer speakers, I want to grab the fucking thing and throw it out the window. Luckily, she deals with them directly, so I don't have to, but their involvement in all this makes it feel like time has slowed to a crawl.

I want this wound to heal. I want them to get Alec Nicholas. I want my parents to leave us the fuck alone.

I shift and ready myself to stand. _Fuck._ I'm in pain, but if it's a choice between the dull grogginess I feel when I take my pills or the discomfort of the wound, I'll take the wound. I almost need the pain to give me incentive to get better as quickly as possible. Now that I'm cutting back on the pills, I wonder if I can expect more dreams like this. I sure as shit hope not; I don't want to relive those awful moments again. But on the other hand, I'd be happy to relive the few hours before that, when I finally got to consummate my eight-month relationship with my favorite listener.

As I run my hands over my face, I marvel over the bizarre turn of events that lead us here. _What a long, strange trip it's been._ I hadn't wanted to get involved with anyone. I'd thought I'd insulated myself well from outside entanglements by keeping to myself and lying low in my DJ booth.

_**I wasn't lookin', but somehow you found me**_

I'd befriended her, unknowingly fell for her, and then pushed her away when she needed me, not once, but twice.

_**I tried to hide from your love light**_

_What the fuck? Carly Simon? Really, Edward? What are they putting in those pain pills?_

And yet, I have to admit the reference _is _appropriate.

Besides, she'd started it with her Wings lyrics in the dream.

I had been somewhat joking when I'd first asked her about her spy skills, but as I got to really see her in action those four days on the run, I'd realized how my assessment had been spot-on. She'd taken no prisoners in dealing with those thugs, and has been a rock as we weather this latest storm. She's practically unflappable.

Look out, James Bond; Bella Swan will kick your ass.

I finally get _my _ass up and go to find her. As I enter the living room, I hear her in our makeshift "office" talking with Alice and back away after a moment, trying to give them privacy, but what they say next makes me pause.

_She's having bad dreams? What?_

I look around and spot the journal on her favorite chair, and within seconds I have it in my hands. For a moment I wonder if I should be doing this, but since she'd told me she wanted to share it with me, I assume it's okay and flip through it to see if she mentions anything.

_Jesus, I'm an idiot. _

She's been observing me carefully and has missed almost nothing. Meanwhile, I've been practically oblivious…

_~#~_

_Edward is in need of physical and emotional healing. I can't help him with the former – only his body can do that – and he's avoiding the latter. And both of these take time. _

_The physical wounds will heal relatively quickly if he can just concentrate on the positive. In the most random way we found each other, and we're alive and together. He has so many good things to look forward to, but then something happens and it feels like we fall back two steps. If only…_

_~#~_

_The nurse is leaving today, so we discussed his meal plan and the timeframe for moving him off this liquid diet. I'm torn about her departure. On the one hand, I'm nervous, knowing I'll be handling his care; it's been eight years since I've had to play nurse to anyone. On the other, I'll be glad to see a stressor removed from the situation. The fact that Esme…_

_~#~_

_He's in such a rush to get better and he tests my patience when he lashes out in frustration. I'm the only one here, so I bear the brunt of it even though I know it isn't really aimed at me. I hold my tongue, knowing how hard this is for him._

_I think it would be easier if I wasn't so tired. I probably should take one of the sleeping pills Leah gave me, but I can't. Because of that liquid diet, he's up a lot to use the bathroom, and sometimes he needs a little help getting up. He thanks me every time, but I know he wishes he didn't need my help. He's been so used to being on his own for the past few years, so it's an adjustment._

_When I finally do get some sleep, I'm haunted by what I've done; in my dreams I see the faces of my parents' murderers and my assailants blending together. Sometimes I'm able to fight them and take them down, but other times it's a losing battle, and they get us all. I wake up a lot and then lie quietly, willing myself to calm down by listening to his breathing. I desperately want to curl up in his arms when I'm feeling like this, but I know I can't. Between his ribs and his puncture wound, he's one big bruise and I stay away to avoid hurting him._

_I moved to the floor earlier this morning and did some basic stretches. I think Mom's yoga lessons will come in handy during our time away. Centered and focused: this is what I need to be for him. _

_It will get better. _

_It will. _

~#~

The magnitude of my self-centeredness hits me like a ton of bricks as I realize that my unflappable friend has been in need of comfort herself, and I've done nothing. Suddenly, Leah's voice adds to my misery.

_Tyler? Fuck, can this get any worse?_

I drop the journal on the coffee table and move to the exercise room. As I step on the treadmill, I'm livid. The mere mention of his name pisses me off. I know I'm being irrational, that she has no feelings for the guy, but his presence in her life just reminds me how I almost lost her due to my stupid actions.

As I walk, his face appears in my head. Younger, good looking, MIT-educated – yeah, I Googled the prick – he'd swooped in because I was an asshole. Moreover, _he_ doesn't come with the baggage I have: a dead wife, prison time, shitty parents.

_He also would have noticed how she was doing, you shithead. _He's_ not a limp-dicked moron._

And he'd probably have been nicer to her than I am when she finds me here. Her cheerfulness after my dream and this latest revelation just irritates me. I'm trying to hold it together, but I snap and she backs away, avoiding a confrontation. Then I see Tyler's face in my head, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out his name.

Suddenly, the gloves come off, and she calls me on my behavior. While my "bug-up-the-ass attitude" (as she so nicely puts it) is still at the forefront of our interaction, there is a small part of me that revels in her ability to put me in my place when she needs to. She's a wondrous combination of tough yet vulnerable, soft yet hard. She knows when to push back and when to just let me vent, which she quickly demonstrates as I plainly admit how shitty I feel that I haven't been very observant or supportive of her.

And once again she turns the tables on me, asking me to allow myself to lean on her, to let her be there for me.

I understand what she's saying, that our relationship is built on friendship, but I'm stuck on the word she uses to describe herself. It's funny how the word "friend" was too much for me two weeks ago, and now "girlfriend" is insufficient. I want more. I can already tell she's it for me, but unfortunately this fucking wound only allows us to be _friends _right now, as my libido is shot to hell and my dick isn't exactly functioning normally.

She runs her fingers through my hair and it's pretty astounding what one touch will do for me. I'm instantly calmer, even as I admit my frustration with the situation. Even as she says things I don't necessarily want to hear.

_**The way that you hold me, whenever you hold me**_

She kneels before me, putting her hands on mine, and affirms her belief in us. Her words lift my spirits and fill my heart with hope.

_**There's some kind of magic inside you**_

She asks for a commitment to work out our differences together, and I'm instantly aware of other promises and vows I hope we'll take someday, so I eagerly agree.

"I do."

And over the weeks that follow, I make good on my promises.

~#~

_She's everywhere; the only thing I see, no matter who else is around. _

_She's bad-ass one moment, soft and sweet the next… and always sexy. I watch her take out her assailants two at a time, looking undeniably hot in a tight black cat suit. She's graceful in her movements, bending and stretching, using any available object – most often her limbs – to knock out her opponents. _

_When they're down for the count, she turns and walks down a long hallway toward me. I stand up straighter, waiting to see what she'll say or do, but she's silent, a small smile on her face as she glances at me and continues walking. She opens a door at the end of the hallway and disappears into the room. I turn and follow, not wanting her out of my sight for too long._

_By the time I enter the room, she's changed. Now dressed more casually in jeans and a tight top, she stands in front of a full-length mirror adjusting her ponytail. I quickly cross the room, and stand behind her, close, but leaving a small space between us. I don't know why, but I want her approval before I move. I need it._

_The room is quiet, our breathing the only sound… although it's possible she can hear my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, she meets my gaze in the mirror. _

"_Touch me, Edward," she whispers. _

_And so I do… _

I blink, and for a moment, I'm embarrassed that I've indeed been groping her in my sleep. Hell, in _her_ sleep. But that moment doesn't last long when I realize my "boat" – as she likes to call it – is getting ready to sail; I hope she'll forgive me for waking her up.

Because I need her. Now.

I remove my boxers and then move back to her side, pulling her closer and kissing her neck; when I glide my hands over her skin, she moans and starts to move against me. To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure she's awake as I make my intentions clear and pull her panties down and off. If she's not, she will be soon.

Her surprised yet receptive reaction spurs me on, and her warm hand feels good as she strokes me. I want to feel her, so I touch her, maneuvering my fingers so they're hitting the right spots, both inside and out.

"Finish first, then climb on top."

No sooner are the words out of my mouth when I realize I want more, and I decide to change the order. I learned a lot about her during that long afternoon before the attack, but there's so much more to discover, and I'm eager to see what else I can do to her… for her.

"Wait," I say as I remove my hand. "Climb up now."

"Oh, okay," she says as she sits up quickly. I tug at her T-shirt – _my_ tee, actually – and she helps me strip it off her before she moves to straddle my hips.

"No, here," I say, gesturing to my shoulders.

Her brow furrows and then her eyes widen in surprise. "Wh… what?"

"Up," I say, pulling her to me. "I want to use my mouth."

"Are you kidding? I… uh…"

Although the room is dimly lit, I know she's probably pink. Her embarrassment is adorable, but I'm absolutely positive I don't want have a detailed discussion about this right now.

"Bella, it might be a while before we can do this another way, and I want this. You trust me, right?"

"Yes."

"Then up. Now."

She's tentative in her movements, and I help position her. She looks confused so I instruct her before she even asks. "Hold on to the headboard."

"But what if I… hoooly shit…"

She grips the headboard and for a second I'm afraid she'll break it, but then she relaxes and moves against my mouth. It doesn't take long once she stops worrying and realizes I have her. She gasps then stills; from this angle, I take it all in and marvel over how beautiful looks when she comes.

She opens her eyes slowly and she notices me watching her. "I think I like this position," she says quietly and glances over her shoulder at my erection, then turns back. "I guess you like it too."

Now she's off my shoulders and straddling my hips within seconds. Holding herself up on one hand, she leans down to kiss me while reaching between us to grab my dick. I groan as she strokes me lightly, moving me into position. _This could be over really fast._

"I don't care," she says in response to my spoken thought, and she stares into my eyes as she sinks down and moans.

"Good?" she whispers.

_Good doesn't begin to describe it. _

_**Like Heaven above me**_

"Fucking heaven."

She smiles and her eyes gleam wickedly. "Heaven, huh? That's damn good. And just think, I'm still learning," she says as she slowly begins to ride me. "So watch out. You ain't seen nothin' yet."

_I don't doubt it for a second, baby._

I touch her, caressing every exposed part I can reach. I'm close, too close, so I press on her clit, knowing I won't make it, but hoping she might be near enough to follow me.

I close my eyes and groan. Then I feel her squeeze my hand, and all images from my dream blend into one. I see my reluctant spy morph into the incredible woman who loves me… and I find my release inside her.

When she comes on my fingers shortly after, she looks at me in wonder.

"How do you… wow… felt so good." She pants as she snuggles up to my uninjured side. "I…"

"What?"

She closes her eyes, shakes her head, and then kisses my chest. "I feel so lucky to have found you," she says, hugging me tightly.

No, I'm the lucky one. I don't know if I'll ever deserve her, but I know I'm willing to spend my days and nights trying.

I kiss her softly and hold her close.

_**Baby… darlin'… you're the best.**_

* * *

**A/N2: The final outtake will be part of the FGB compilation and will be - by popular Twitter vote - Tony's perspective on when she stopped calling in.**

**Thank you once again to Irritable Grizzzly.**

**Please review.**

_Post A/N: Also not mine: lyrics from Carly Simon's Nobody Does it Better. (BTW, did you catch the Grateful Dead's Truckin lyrics in there? Whew – Tony and I still have it.) _

_About Carly Simon:_

_- Singer-songwriter, whose top hit was You're So Vain, which made it to #1 in 1972. She has never admitted who the song was about, but popular speculation has been Warren Beatty, Mick Jagger (who sang background vocals), and David Geffen. Warren Beatty thinks the song is about him, so I guess he's vain, ha._

_- Nobody Does It Better made it to #2 in 1977 when it was released as the theme song for The Spy Who Loved Me._

_- I believe her third highest hit was Mockingbird, which she sang with her now-ex-husband, James Taylor._

_On a completely unrelated note, check out my profile for the new banner TKegl made for my American Vampire Series. It's pretty awesome._


	4. Outtake 4: Electric Light Orchestra

**Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. The content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Just4ALE.**

_A/N1: Happy holidays, everyone! RL has been a little topsy-turvy, so I decided to post this outtake - written for the Fandom Gives Back compilation - before it all gets away from me.  
_

_So here it is: Tony gives his perspective on ch 7 (The Guess Who) and ch 8 (Queen) of Tunes with Tony Masen… the garage incident, and when Izzy stopped calling in._

* * *

**Outtake 4**

**Electric Light Orchestra: On Blue Days, Black Nights, and Living in Twilight**

**#**

"The team looks good so far. I just hope the pitching is up to par this year."

"I don't think the Giants' problem is with the pitching. Righetti has some great bench strength," Eleazar says as he follows me into the garage.

"I hear that-"

In a parking spot near the construction debris, there's a petite woman and a larger scruffy-looking man struggling. "What the- HEY!" I shout as I drop my helmet.

The next thing I know, the man throws the woman against the wall and takes off running, and Eleazar instructs me to stay with her as he chases the guy.

_Holy shit_. I quickly walk over to help her as she sits on ground, slumped up against the wall.

She's looking down and rubbing the back of her head, so I lean over and extend my hand. "Here, are you okay?"

She looks up and I instantly recognize her. For a second, I'm thrilled.

_It's the woman from Jake's Bike shop!_

Then one word is all it takes to turn my world upside down. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

And suddenly I'm in hell as I realize who I'm really looking at.

_Oh, no, no, no, NO. Fuuuuck!_

I back away, and she stands carefully, takes a step toward me, and repeats her question about my identity.

I must have been a real asshole in my past life. As if I haven't had enough shitty luck in the last ten years, the beautiful woman I'd seen in Jake's shop is my favorite listener.

_Fuckin' figures._

I try to blame her confusion on her banging her head against the wall as Eleazar returns, but she's persistent and there's hopefulness in her voice as she explains who she is.

_Oh, I know who you are, sweetheart. I wish to God I didn't…_

I don't have time to waste. I continue with the charade as I ignore her and gather my things, then hurry to Eleazar and lean in to talk to him.

"I gotta get out of here. Follow my lead, and don't tell her anything."

I introduce her to him using the information she'd just provided and point out that she might need medical attention. Then I shove my helmet on, hop on the bike, flip down the visor, and rev the engine.

With a quick glance, I note the bewildered/hurt expression on her face as she stares at me. Then I take off.

I probably leave skid marks.

I drive fast until I'm several blocks away, then I pull into a random alley. I get off the bike, flip the visor up, and gasp for air as I lean over and put my hands on my thighs to steady myself, not sure if I'd actually taken a breath since I left her.

What the fuck? The woman I'd gotten friendly with on the radio is the same woman I've been hoping to run into again at the shop. But I wasn't planning on having a "_relationship_" with the bike shop woman, just maybe a casual hook-up-or five-if I could charm her.

And my friendship with Izzy from San Francisco, well, that … that's just …

I straighten up, rip off my helmet, and throw it against a nearby metal dumpster. "GOD DAMMIT!" For good measure, I kick the dumpster too, and it slams into the wall with a loud bang. "Fucking hell!"

A voice to my right interrupts my meltdown. "Hey!"

I turn and note the scowl on the security guard's face as he walks slowly toward me.

"What are you doing, man?"

I shake my head and splay my hands in front of me as a gesture of peace. "Sorry. Bad morning." I point to my bike. "I was just leaving."

The guard nods and watches me warily but lets me go, and within seconds I'm on the Triumph riding home.

Images of her hopeful, then bewildered eyes float in front of me, and I drive faster, hoping the speed will chase the visions from my head, but my mood has only gotten darker by the time I get home.

I enter and don't even bother to take off my jacket before heading to the kitchen. I toss the keys on the counter, put my helmet on the table, and quickly dig into the liquor cabinet. Normally, I wouldn't be drinking at six a.m., but we're far the fuck away from "normal."

"_Tony?"_

I pour a quick shot of Jack and down it. The warm soothing feeling is noticeably absent, and I feel like I'm coming out of my own skin. I pace, debating whether to have another but while I'd like nothing better than to drink this last hour into oblivion, a different feeling gnaws at me. What started in the garage has quickly snowballed into this giant need to put a lot of distance between me and this city, that radio station, and her.

"_Aren't you Tony Masen?"_

Especially her.

_But is she okay?_

I brush off the thought and pull out my cell as I walk quickly to my room and call the station manager while shoving things in my duffle bag.

"Joe, it's Tony. Listen, man, I have a bit of a personal emergency and have to leave town for the rest of the week. Sorry for the late notice, but we have those old shows all ready to go. I should be back by Monday, but I'll let you know if something changes. I've got my cell if you need to reach me. Bye."

Within seconds the lights are off, my gear is in hand, and I'm on my way out.

I ride across the city to my bike storage space in South Beach. I'm not quite sure where I'm headed yet, but I decide to take the more agile of my motorcycles just in case.

_It doesn't matter where you go, you just need to get far away from her._

Unfortunately as I consider my direction, the pause allows the discomfort I've been tamping down to bubble back up to the surface.

"_No, wait, it's me. Izzy- Izzy from San Francisco?"_

I take a deep breath and try to visualize a place, a location, anywhere, but instead all I see is her violently thrown against a wall.

And I just took off on her.

_Are you okay, Iz?_

I shake my head, realizing my direction is inevitable, and I give in so I can put this behind me and just get going.

About twenty-five minutes later, I pull up to El and Carmen's place in the outer Richmond when it dawns on me that I'm not quite ready for this conversation; Eleazar is a good friend and a straight shooter, which I appreciate, but he may give me a lecture I don't need, since I'm well aware I'd just been an asshole.

I take off the helmet and set it on the bike, then dig into one of the side compartments to grab my emergency stash. I haven't smoked in a long while, but right now I need it. I find a half empty pack of Marlboros and a book of matches, and light one up, taking a long drag and hoping the nicotine will hit me fast. Then I settle myself down on the stairs to their apartment.

_What could I have done differently? What should I have done? _

"Uh… Tony?"

I look up and find Carmen standing in front of me. She and El are very good at keeping up appearances and always remembering to call me Tony.

I offer her a small smile. "Morning, Carmen. How are you?"

"I'm fine." She gestures with her thumb over her right shoulder. "I just came back from walking the kids to school because Eleazar got stuck at work. He said someone got attacked in the garage?"

I rub my hand over my hair and nod. "Yeah."

She stares at me. "Are you okay?" Then she glances down at my hand and frowns. "Are you… smoking? I haven't seen you do that since…" She looks at me with concern. "_Dios __mío_, whatever it is, it can't be that bad, can it?"

I shake my head. "No. Nothing like that, hon."

"I have to go get my stuff and then head to work or I'm going to be really late. There's some coffee ready in the carafe; do you want a cup?"

"Yeah, actually, that'd be great. It'll help keep me up while I'm on the road."

She points at my cigarette. "Well, you can't come in the house with that. If Eleazar has to smoke outside, so do you. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

"Sure, don't rush."

She steps around me and goes inside but leaves the door open. After about a minute or two, her phone rings, and I catch her end of the conversation. I know enough Spanish to realize I'm one of the topics of discussion.

"Hola, mi sol! ¿Terminaste ya?"… "¿Donde?"… "Oh, no, él está aquí."…"Sí. Esperando por ti…Se ve mal."… "Mmm… okay. I'll see you later."… "Te amo."

She finishes the conversation, and then I hear the door close and her heels on the stairs. As she passes, she touches my shoulder before turning to face me.

"Here," she says, handing me a mug of coffee and an ashtray. "I left the door unlocked in case you want to go inside. Eleazar is on his way home now."

I put out the cigarette. "Thanks."

She stares at me for a few more seconds and sighs, then leans in, kisses my forehead, and tugs at my ponytail. "You need a haircut."

Considering what I looked like when I first met Carmen and El, this is an understatement, and she's been harassing me about it for two years, but this touch of normalcy right now lightens my mood. "Ya think?"

She backs away from me with a smile. "I have to go. Whatever it is, you'll be all right."

I nod and raise my mug. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime," she says and then leaves.

I sit and sip the coffee, the cool morning air enveloping me, and by the time I finish it and am on my second cigarette, Eleazar pulls up. He walks slowly toward me and stares for a moment, and I move over so he can join me on the stairs.

He pulls out his own pack and lights up. We both look out into the street and puff away; the silence is deafening, but I wait, knowing he's not going to let me off on this one. I'm right.

"You know I have no problem covering for you, but in this instance… I don't know why. I mean, that's her: the one who always wins."

The idea that Izzy would have bragged about her winning seems out of character. "Did she tell you that?"

He shakes his head. "Never said a word about it the entire time. Not even to Joe. Introduced herself as Isabella." He shrugs. "Why run? You know her."

I make a face. "I don't _know _her. And you're fully aware I don't get involved with anyone."

"You're _already_ involved."

"You know what I mean. Look, she's just a listener."

"Bullshit. I may be good at staying silent about what I know, but that doesn't mean I don't hear and see. Fool yourself all you want, but don't try to fool me." He takes another drag from his cigarette then puts it out in the ashtray. "She's not just _a __listener,_ and you damn well know it."

I put out my own cigarette and rub my hands over my face. "I was never supposed to meet her."

"Maybe you were. She was there applying for the treasure hunt, you know."

I smile. Izzy is smart. From the little information I do have about her, I have a suspicion she has a good shot at winning.

"I see you've switched out bikes. Going somewhere?" he asks.

"I just need to get away for a bit."

"Did ya tell Joe?"

"Yeah, left him a voicemail. We should be fine."

"I'll bet quite a few of your "greatest hits" they'll play include her." He pauses. "I'm surprised you're not gone already."

"Yeah, I just… I really…" _Fuck._"I needed to know. How is she?"

"She's good. A bit banged up, but she'll recover. I left after the EMTs did." He smiles. "She's a nice lady – very special."

After many a meal with Carmen and El, I'm more than familiar with their less-than-furtive attempts at matchmaking. They use that word _special_ when they find someone "nice" for me.

"El, what are you doing?"

"I'm just telling you what I saw! Definitely more than meets the eye with that one," he says. "There were two of them, you know. Two muggers."

My blood runs cold. "What?"

"She threw her bag at one, and when he left, the other came after her with a different purpose." He grimaces for a moment, then chuckles. "She was beating the hell out of that guy."

I listen in amazement as he recounts her telling of the events. Somewhere, "Larry" was feeling the effect right now. Then the guilt creeps up on me.

_Two guys. What a horrible thing to deal with on your way to apply for something fun. _

_And you just ditched her, asshole._

"Joe has her number, you know. In case—"

I stand quickly. "In case nothing. I can't."

"Whatever, man." He shrugs and then stands. "Going anywhere in particular?"

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Eh, I think I'll head up the coast. Maybe around Mendocino, Fort Bragg."

"Not Reno? Or Vegas?"

"Oh, God, no. I don't need to deal with Irina again, and as far as the others… I just need be anywhere but here. Alone."

He claps me on the shoulder and looks me in the eye. "Well, get going and get your head on straight. And you'd better use the time to figure out what you'll say to her when she calls again."

I leave, hoping that the time and distance will help me figure out what to do.

~#~

The ride up the coast is a good distraction. I choose this route partially because there's no such thing as zoning out along the way.

Several hours after leaving the city, I've landed in Fort Bragg. Given my past, I don't need much in the way of accommodations. It's amazing how having a bed, toilet, and shower is sufficient, and I'm able to find a cheap motel quite quickly.

As soon as I've dumped my stuff in the room, I take off in search of food and liquor, and find a nice local store where I quickly grab a sandwich and an overpriced bottle of some decent tequila. I smile but basically ignore the cashier trying to flirt with me, and make my exit quickly.

Once back at the hotel, I pace; I'm still wired. On a "normal" day at this time, I'd be winding down, reading for a few hours before heading to sleep, but today is not a normal day. Since I missed my run after work, I change into my running gear, and get going, hoping to wear myself out.

Usually during my daily run, I think about the previous night's conversations with Izzy as I plan my upcoming show, but today I want nothing to do with that. I really push myself, instead concentrating on my burning muscles and keeping up the pace as I race along the beach. It works for a couple of miles, but then it all goes out the window when a slim, dark-haired woman runs by me.

And suddenly, Izzy is the only thing I can think about.

For months, I've wondered what she looks like. Ever since the night she'd told me her name was Isabella, I've imagined a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman. Once, I'd even mapped her voice, personality, and intelligence to the woman I'd seen in Jake's bike shop, but I'd consciously separated the two in my head as soon as I'd caught myself thinking it. The woman in the bike shop was a fantasy. Izzy is…what?

_A listener? _

_An acquaintance?_

_A friend?_

She's something else entirely.

We've talked at length about so much, and yet almost nothing that has been truly personal. It's quite the dance revealing some things but not too much. Wanting her in but keeping her at arm's length. Every night, I revel in the details she shares with me, waiting to hear more, but knowing I can't really ask because I don't plan on reciprocating. I can't get any closer. I can't let her in any deeper than she is.

And she's far the fuck in.

_Well, it's a good thing this happened then, no? _

Is it?

_Yes. You can't let your past infect her. She's a good person. _

_Special._

"_Definitely __more __than __meets __the__ eye__ with __that __one,__" _El had said.

_Yeah._

I replay many of our conversations, but these eventually morph into an endless loop of the morning's events: The attack. Our meeting. My running.

Her eyes.

Before I realize it, I've returned to my room, showered, eaten, and can barely taste the tequila I'm drinking.

"_No, wait, it's me. Izzy…"_

Her eyes. Her face.

So hurt. So different from the brief time I'd seen her laughing in Jake's shop.

_**And I can't get it out of my head.**_

"Christ," I mutter as I pour more into my cup and wonder just how much distance I need to put between us - or alcohol I'll need to consume - to get some mental peace as my mind drifts to a conversation we had only a few weeks ago, shortly after I'd started calling her Queen Izzy…

~#~#~

_I'm leaning back in my chair with my feet up on the desk, my usual position during one of our off-air chats. "Oh, come on, you've got to admit that Jeff Lynne overproduced some of their stuff." _

"_Yeah,__ but__ like__ I __said, __Mom __really__ liked__ them. __I__ think__ my __parents__ had __every __single __album.__ I__ loved _Discovery_.__"_

_I __take __my __feet __off__ the__ desk __and __sit__ up __quickly.__ "__Oh,__ no, __you __did __NOT__ just __admit__ that __to __me! _"Disco? Very."_ You __like __that__ thing?__"_

"_I__ know, __I __know.__ It_ was_ pretty__ disco-ish,__ but__ my__ mom__ was__ a __fantastic__ dancer.__" __She__ pauses.__ "__No,__ what__ I __meant__ was __I __liked __the__ album__ pictures. __Do __you __remember__ them?__ The __Aladdin-ish__ guy __finding __the __ELO__ neon __disk__ and __the __guys__ on__ horses__ with __swords__ drawn__ coming __after__ him?__ I__ loved__ to __look __at __it.__ Plus__ that__ album__ had_ Horace Wimp_.__"_

_I grin. "You're kidding."_

"_Well, I was a little girl. I loved the voices on that song, and Mom and I would dance around to it and make Dad laugh. I think that's why he put up with it."_

_I try to imagine my favorite caller as a little girl. Of course, it would be easier if I knew what she looked like now. Despite the fact that she'd said she wasn't Italian, I like the image of a dark-haired/dark-eyed woman. It's completely different from any other woman I've been "friendly" with. _

_I pick up a pen and play with it. "That's sweet. Okay, that one I'll give you, but I don't know… I've gotta say I'm usually with you on your music choices, but this one makes me doubt your taste." I bite my lip and wait for her response. _

"_Hey! That's not nice!" I laugh as I get the reaction I'm hoping for. I really enjoy teasing her. _

"_Well," she says, "you can mock my musical tastes all you want, my friend, but I'll have you know you asked an ELO question the first night I found your show!" _

"_I must have been having an off night."_

"_Ha! Well, for someone who doesn't like them that much, you sure play them often enough. I swear they're in the lineup at least every other week."_

"_I only play them because I know you like them."_

"_W-what?" I hear the surprise in her voice. "Really?" _

_Ooh, too much? I try to cover. "Well, you and every other crazy fan out there."_

"_Ah, that makes more sense." She chuckles. _

_I don't know why, but something about her makes me want to be as honest as I can. Last week I'd told her the Lennon story, which was a LOT of information for me to share. _

"_But mainly for you, darlin'," I say._

"_Oh, thanks," she says, and I think I hear a smile in her tone._

_We're silent for a moment, and then I decide to press her on a related topic. "So, any ELO songs in your top five?"_

"_Nope."_

"_What__ are __they,__ military __secrets, __Iz?__ Are__ you _ever _going __to __tell__ me__ your __list?__" _

"_Sure, at some point." _

"_But not now, huh? Okay. Just tell me you have some cool songs in there."_

"_Well, apparently that's a matter of opinion. What can I say?" She pauses for a moment. "I know what I like and I like what I know."_

_I laugh and toss the pen back on the desk. "And it's Genesis lyrics for the save! Excellent." I hesitate, then say, "Are they in your top five?"_

~#~#~

The alcohol finally does the trick, and I manage to drink some water before crawling into bed.

"Ssstill don't know ur topfife," I say. Then I pass out.

~#~

The week passes by in a blur. The motel actually has a computer in the lobby, and I use it daily to do research for the show. I run and hike a lot during the day, and read and drink at night. At some point I even manage to find a local bar with an upright piano in the back. There aren't a lot of customers, so the bartender lets me play. It's been a while and I'm a bit rusty at first, but it's therapeutic to get lost in the music, and I find my groove pretty quickly. I even make five dollars in tips.

As I make my way back to the city on Sunday, I'm still not sure what I'm going to say when she calls, even though I've thought about it all week. I basically have two choices: deny or admit it was me.

Denying would be the easier route. Act surprised when she asks what happened. Lie through my teeth. After all, my whole life is a lie, so what makes this situation any different?

_She__ does.__ She __makes __it__ different.__ She__ makes_ you_ different._

During the week, I've replayed almost every conversation we've had, trying to get a better handle on her. The fact of the matter is she's been just as good as I have at revealing very little, so I never found out her age, marital status, or what she looked like. Hell, I didn't even know what part of San Francisco Izzy from San Francisco came from.

What I do know is that she is smart and tenacious. There's almost no way she'd believe the lie.

By the time I get home, I figure I'll play it by ear. Feel her out during our conversation. If I sense the lie won't work, I'll admit it was me:

"_You took me by surprise. There's some stuff you don't know about me, and… I wasn't ready to meet you. I'm kind of a recluse in real life. Pretty private."_

I'll apologize for running out and hope to hell she accepts it and pray that we can just turn back to what we were: DJ and listener.

"_She__'__s__ not__ just__ a __listener,__ and __you__ damn __well__ know __it,__"_ Eleazar's voice reminds me.

_Yeah. I know._

~#~

My first night back in the studio is nerve-wracking. In an attempt to delay the inevitable, I've planned the show around bands I know she doesn't like or know too much about. I steel myself for her call in between trivia segments, and every time the phone rings, I jump. By the end of the night I haven't heard from her, and I'm somewhat relieved.

She doesn't call in the next three nights either, and I realize that she could have taken some time away from the city just as I did. Maybe she's visiting relatives or friends. I'm not concerned because I think the more space we can put between that morning and our next conversation, the easier it will be.

Over the weekend, I settle back into my normal routine. Errands. A long bike ride. Exercise. Reading. Research and preparation for work. Sunday night dinner with Carmen and Eleazar and their kids. Eleazar says nothing, but I can feel his look and almost hear his thoughts. I pretend I don't see that he's dying to ask me what I think about her absence, because I don't want to think about it. It's temporary.

_What if it's not?_

I brush off the thought and finish the evening with them. On the way home, I notice a dive bar that I used to visit on occasion, and stop and go in, checking to see if it still has the old piano in the back. It does, so I ask the bartender if she'd mind if I played for a while. She gives me the okay, so I grab a beer and then settle in for an hour, playing whatever hits me.

By the time I'm done, I feel relaxed, and it's only then I realize how uneasy I'd been. The idea that Izzy wouldn't call in again is wrong. She's just on vacation.

_It's temporary. It has to be. _

As I roll into week two, however, I'm no longer so sure. There are some trivia segments I positive she'll know, but she never calls. In a sad turn of events, with each hour that passes, and each call that comes in that isn't her, my discomfort grows. While the logical part of me realizes that whatever distance she's putting between us is probably for the best for both of our sakes, I can't help what I feel.

I want her to call in. I need it.

And still, she doesn't. Not even when I throw out some Queen trivia and hint that she should take a chance.

By Thursday night, my show feels off. Hell, my whole routine is off. I'm wired and edgy, and I'm eating and sleeping less. I find another fairly empty bar on Friday afternoon and play at their piano for a while. The weekend is overcast and gray, but it feels like it never gets light at all. Day and night blend together and before I know it, it's Sunday.

I bow out of dinner with El and Carmen because I don't want to have the conversation I know El is dying to have. Instead, I spend several hours at the bar playing. My melancholy is very much evident as the bartender gives me a drink on the house and asks if I'm okay.

_**Blue days. Black nights. **_

But other than that, I'm fine.

~#~

By week three, I'm willing to try anything to get her to call in. I leave more hints in the clues. I devote Tuesday night's trivia to piano men and bands with famous keyboardists. I play songs I know she's requested when she's won on previous segments.

_**Morning don't get here tonight...**_

I will the clock to slow down. I don't want to see five a.m. only to have another night go by without hearing her voice.

And when it does, the emptiness I feel gets a little bigger.

As I leave early Thursday morning, I find Eleazar waiting for me in the garage. We haven't talked much this week, and I know he's been giving me space. We both know I fucked up, but he's too good a friend to rub it in my face.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just checking in with you." His eyes narrow. "You don't look so good. Are you sleeping at all?"

I shrug. "Yeah, enough."

It's clear he doesn't believe me, but he leaves it alone. "Well, listen, next week I'm switching to days because they asked me to help out with the treasure hunt. The new guy is too junior to help with the logistics on Friday/Saturday morning, so we're trading time slots."

I nod, not really knowing why he's telling me this. Maybe he's worried about not being around for me. Maybe he's just making small talk.

Or maybe there's a different reason altogether, I realize, as he shoves his hands in his pockets, looks down, and says what he really wants me to know. "I saw her, you know."

While I'd love to pretend I don't know who he's talking about, I don't bother; he can see through me. "Where?"

"Here. The conference room, yesterday morning. She got selected for the treasure hunt."

I try to look impassive, but the information is unsettling. Somewhere underneath it all, I've been harboring a small hope that there was some other possible reason for her absence; that perhaps she'd been sent out of town on assignment or had an extended family emergency, or something… anything. But getting confirmation that she's definitely still in the area and isn't calling on purpose makes my heart freeze.

_**I turn to stone, when you are gone, I turn to stone.**_

I realize El is now staring at me, and I need to respond.

"Is this Joe's way of covering the station's ass so she won't sue for the attack?" I say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. "No. From what I've heard and seen, their applications were really strong and her hunt partner is quite the personality. I'm sure you've seen his ads around town. Jake, from Jake's Bikes?"

Impassivity suddenly goes out the window as I learn this news. "Is she _with_ him?"

Thankfully, I don't need to specify what I mean. He shakes his head. "I don't think so. Not from what I could tell, and they don't live together. Or at least they don't have the same address."

I frown. "How do you know that?"

"I saw their applications. Joe has them."

_Applications. __Huh.__ Interesting._ "Oh."

"And he also has her number…"

I look up in disbelief. "El! What did I say?"

"Yeah, but that was before we both realized how badly you screwed up here. I was being nice before. You look like shit and your program is off. You should fix this."

He's right and we both know it, but my pride won't let me, and it goes against everything I've done to protect myself for the past three years. "You know I can't get involved."

He stands up straighter and folds his arms across his chest. "Too late for that, dontcha think?"

"Really, it's better for _her_ this way."

"Says you."

The idea of me calling her feels invasive. It breaches the unspoken agreement of not discussing anything personal. And yet…

_What would I even say?_

"What people normally say," he responds, answering my spoken thought. "Hello. How are you?"

_**Have you been all right, through all those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely nights?**_

I shake my head. "I…I can't overstep my bounds. I need _her_ to call in."

_**I'd tell you everything, if you'd pick up that telephone…**_

He cocks his head and looks at me in disappointment. "Doesn't look like that's happening, does it?" He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, then shrugs and throws his hands up. "Okay, well, do what you have to do and try to get some rest. Call me if you need me."

He leaves and I'm alone with my thoughts and feelings.

The emptiness threatens to consume me, and I struggle to shake it off as I hop on my bike and go home. I've been on my own for years and have never felt lonely. But now...

I'm conflicted. I don't deserve her forgiveness or her friendship, but I want them both, and if I could turn back the clock, I would.

My only hope is that she's still listening, and that something I say will finally get her to call.

_**Oh, Izzy, give me some time… I'm living in twilight.**_

~#~

I barely get three hours' sleep that afternoon, and wake up anxious and blue, knowing the only thing that will soothe me is the piano. I shower, then grab my stuff and make my way to one of my old haunts.

I have no idea what I've been playing, or for how long, when a hand takes my empty glass from the top of the piano and replaces it with a full one.

"Jerry says this is on the house if you'll stop playing that band."

I stop immediately and try to remember what I've been playing. Then I snort when I realize what it was, and take a long swig. _Jesus, __I__'__m __really __messed__ up._

_**And I can't get it out of my head.**_

"Not an ELO fan, I take it?" I yell to Jerry, the bartender.

"Well, one song maybe, but you were on a medley. Maybe if you'd been playing _Fire__ on__ High_..." He laughs. "Go back to Skynard or CCR."

"Ah, clearly a man with good taste," I say, raising my glass to him. "Thanks."

The pretty blonde waitress with the nice rack is still standing next to me, and I note she's appraising me with more than a little interest, so I ask, "What about you? Any requests?"

She steps in closer with a flirty smile. "Me? I barely knew anything you were playing. Jerry said it was a bunch of seventies stuff." She wrinkles her nose. "I don't like the old dudes."

I nearly choke on my beer and then burst out laughing. _Oh,__ the __irony._

She instantly backtracks, thinking I misunderstood her statement. "Oh, no! I mean I don't like old music. I don't mind older guys."

"Oh, okay," I say, turning back to the piano.

When I start playing some _Yes_, Jerry yells, "Yeah, that's more like it!"

"I'm Morgan, by the way," she says.

I don't look at her as I continue playing. "Hi, Morgan. Anthony."

"You know, you've been great entertainment tonight. The customers really like it."

I glance around and note that the place has filled up a bit. Clearly it's later than I thought. I look at my watch and see it's eleven twenty.

"Well, I'm glad." I stand and step around the piano bench. "It was nice meeting you."

She frowns. "Oh, you're leaving? I barely got a chance to talk with you." She steps closer to me. "I take a break in ten minutes if you want to stay and… _chat_."

I reach into my pocket to pay for the second half-consumed beer. It's funny, but once upon a time, Morgan was my type. Hell, not even a year ago I probably would have flirted right back and then fucked her in the supply room before I left for work. But now…

I don't give a shit about this blonde in front of me. I do, however, care about a certain brunette I know who DOES like the old dudes.

_**No I can't get it out of my head.**_

The hurt in her eyes.

_**Now my old world is gone for dead.**_

A phone that won't ring.

_What have I done?_

I manage to smile and hand her a ten. "Actually, I have to go to work."

Her smile falters, and she steps back. "Well, come back and see us when you've got some free time."

I grab my helmet from the top of the piano. "Will do." I wave at Jerry on the way out. "Thanks."

"Good to see you, man."

As I drive to work, I process through the last ridiculous half hour. A waitress who doesn't like seventies stuff, but doesn't mind older dudes like me. A bartender who'll pay me to switch the music. And a band that's haunting my subconscious.

There's a glimmer of an idea forming, but I've had so little sleep lately, it's just out of reach, so I try to focus.

_Skynard. CCR. Yes. ELO…_

"_Maybe if you'd been playing Fire on High…"_

_There it is. _

I suddenly recall a conversation Izzy and I had two and a half months ago…

~#~#~

"_Oh, my God, my dad LOVED taking us on road trips. Almost every vacation it seemed like we were in a car for hours, and in preparation, my parents would both make mixed tapes of their favorite music."_

"_And that's how you learned about the bands?"_

"_Yeah, sort of. They played a similar trivia game to the one you do. The winner got to play a tape of their choice for twenty minutes, and then they'd ask a different question."_

_I smile as she shares another Izzy fact. "What bands were on the tapes?"_

"_Oh, jeez, seemed like every one. Um … The Who, Pink Floyd, Golden Earring, Steve Miller, The Stones, Wings, ELO-"_

_Whoa, two of those things were not like the others. "Wings? ELO? Really?"_

"_Hey, what's wrong with them?"_

"_Both your parents put them on their tapes?"_

"_Hmm, __I__'__d__ say __my __mom__ more __than __dad__.__ Although _Fire on High_ was __on __Dad__'__s __list __of__ driving__ songs.__"_

"_Hold on; songs about driving, or songs that are good to drive to?"_

"_Good catch!" she says. "Songs that are great for road trips."_

_I pause to consider it. "Yeah, he's right. It is."_

"_Oh, definitely, but when I was really little, they'd have to skip the beginning. Freaked me out!"_

_I grin. "Do you know what it says?"_

"_Obviously you can't see me right now, but I'm rolling my eyes. Of course I know…"_

~#~#~

_Of course she does._

As I walk into the studio, I decide to change the program plan. I'm done pussyfooting around with subtle hints. While I can't blatantly come out and say, "This one's for you, Izzy!" I can reference something she's specifically told me and hope she hears all I'm not saying:

~twtm~

"Hey Fogheads, I've got a busy set for you tonight, so let's jump in.

"With Memorial Day behind us and July Fourth just over a week away, we're moving quickly into summer. What does that mean? Baseball, barbecues, and family vacations.

"Tonight's program is devoted to the road trip. Nothing says family bonding like being trapped in a car with people who seem hell-bent on annoying you. Of course, the trip goes more smoothly when you have great music, so let's get into some driving songs; not songs about driving, but songs that are great to drive to.

"First up: This British band was accused by Christian Fundamentalists of inserting satanic messages into the songs on their 1974 album. In response, they followed it up the next year with an album that begins with rather ominous music and what sounds like the devil when you backmask. Other than a choir of angelic voices singing an additional four words, the song is purely instrumental.

"Name the band and this fantastic driving song. And for the gold star, tell me what the opening subliminal message says. Fans of this band will definitely know this..."

~#~

The phone rings before I even finish, and my heart leaps… only to fall when Cara from Alameda calls in and answers. She gets it right and makes her song choice.

As I play the trivia song for Cara, and Izzy doesn't call in the rest of the night, I know all too well how true their backward message is:

"**The music is reversible, but time is not."**

_But oh, Izzy, you have no idea how I wish to God it was... _

* * *

**A/N2: Aw, poor Tony. (But he kind of deserved it. Just saying.)**

**Thank you to Irritable Grizzzly for her beta work. **

**Please review.  
**

_Post__ A/N:__Not __mine __-__ lyrics __from __ELO__'__s_ Can't Get It Out of My Head_,_ Telephone Line_, _Turn to Stone_,__ and _Fire on High_._

_Mini__ shout-out __to __Genesis__'__s _I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe)_ as __well._

_Note__ that __the __full __backward__ message__ in _Fire on High _is:__ "__The __music__ is __reversible, __but__ time __is __not.__ Turn __back.__ Turn __back. __Turn __back. __Turn __back.__"_


End file.
